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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28154976">Hetalia High 2: Liza and the No-Good Hate Account</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_swag/pseuds/miss_swag'>miss_swag</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Hetalia High [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hetalia: Axis Powers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - High School, Boarding School, F/M, I'm Sorry, Romance</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-12-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-12-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 17:34:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>7</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,179</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28154976</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_swag/pseuds/miss_swag</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>In the second installment of the critically acclaimed Hetalia High series, Elizabeth Kirkland finds herself in a sticky situation: someone has created a hate account in order to mock her! How will Elizabeth—Liza to friends—find her way out of this situation?<br/>((Disclaimer: The inspiration behind the story has real life connections. Please enjoy the mental breakdown that is this story, and see if you can spot the exact moment the ceiling of my mental stability came crashing down.))</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>France (Hetalia)/Original Female Character(s)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Hetalia High [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2061069</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>     My first year at the infamous Hetalia High was nothing if not extraordinarily eventful. From the minute I walked through the large doors, I knew that this would be an experience like no other, and an experience like no other it had certainly been. Now, being in my second year, I wished only for a time at least half as good as the last.</p><p>     Oh, that’s right! I haven’t even introduced myself yet! I am Elizabeth Kirkland—Liza for short. It’s much easier don’t you think? Another piece of information worth mentioning? I can also now proudly claim the title of England as well. Now enough of that, back to my tale.</p><p>     On a rather typical evening after school, I sat in that same old-fashioned diner I had first met my now best friends, Antonio, Gilbert, and of course…Francis. Ah, that lovely Frenchman I had—quite literally—run into on that fateful first day of school. Despite my brother’s ardent disapproval, naturally, it didn’t take long for the two of us to confess our undying love for one another…or so I saw it. The four of us were participating in a lively conversation about the events of our first week.</p><p>     “Yeah, und I already got kicked out of class shree times this veek!” Gilbert proudly announced, raising his hand in the air to high five Antonio who sat next to him.</p><p>     I let out an exaggerated sigh, “Gil, I don’t know if that’s something you should be proud of. School <em>just</em> started!” The three boys around me all began laughing.</p><p>     Once our hysteria came to an end—for the most part at least, Gilbert made it a habit to continue the joke further than it needed to go—Antonio piped up, “Hey, did you putas hear about Mona?” This question forced a groan out of Francis, the same kind of noise one would make if they had been punched in the gut.</p><p>     “Must we really bring her up right now? I thought we came here to have a <em>good</em> time.”</p><p>     Of course, Antonio ignored his pal’s concerns. “No, no listen,” he was interrupted by Gilbert’s excessive lean-in, a move he often used to make sure you knew for certain that he was really listening. Rolling his emerald eyes, Antonio continued, “I heard that she left the school after the second day!” Puzzled looks perused each of our faces.</p><p>     “VHAT? I don’t believe that!”</p><p>     “Si, serio.”</p><p>     At the same exact time Gil and Antonio were losing their minds over this new information, I got what felt like one MILLION messages blowing up my phone. Now ignoring their debate on what the reason for Mona’s departure could be, I was faced with a message from my brother, Arthur. The message read: <em>Liza, I don’t know what ur doing right now but…check this out.</em> Underneath the message was a link. Upon clinking the link, I was now looking at an account created on HetaliaGram centered around none other than hating on me!  </p><p>                                     </p><p>     I could not believe this! I have been nothing but nice to everyone I’ve met, I can’t believe that someone would say something like this about me! I almost feel sick. And who does the poster think they are making their name like that! The only “Francis Girl” in this world would be me!</p><p>     As I was now very visibly bothered, the two boys across the table began to quiet down upon Francis’ silent request.</p><p>     “Is everything alright, mon chéri?” Francis could barely finish his sentence before the rest of the group was notified of this dastardly post, slandering my name.</p><p>     Antonio and Gilbert practically gasped in unison.</p><p>     “Zis is unforgiveable!” The other customers in the restaurant looked at him, questioningly, in the type of way one would look at a rabid animal.</p><p>     Antonio nodded.</p><p>     I locked eyes with Francis now. He put a comforting hand on my cheek. “Pay it no mind, Liza. I’m sure it’s just someone who’s jealous of you.” I smiled softly, grateful for his words and his compassion.</p><p>     “You’re probably right…” I said, trailing off. Although I truly wanted to believe the words of my charming boyfriend, I couldn’t help but think there might actually be a more sinister motive.</p><p>     As the evening grew on, likewise, our conversation grew away from my “hate account” on to new, more positive topics. Despite my laughter from then on, that post would not leave my mind.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>     The next morning, Arthur and I walked together to our morning class: Home Economics with Professor Hitler. On the way I absolutely <em>dreaded</em> the subject I knew would come up from Arthur. He certainly could be a “tea-spiller” given the right situation, although, somehow, I feel as though that description may be…rather offensive, all things considered.</p><p>     Much to my dismay, my brother stopped before entering the school building, “Do you want to talk about that post, Liza?”</p><p>     “No,” I said bluntly, wanting to end this conversation before it even had the chance to begin.</p><p>     Despite my obvious wishes, Arthur began talking about it anyways, “You know, I think it’s all a bunch of bollocks if you ask me. If I were you, I would just ignore it. I bet it’s just some sorry lout who’s jealous of you.”</p><p>     Although he tried to continue speaking, I cut him off before he could get any further, “I know, I <em>am</em> ignoring it.” Arthur looked at me suspiciously, obviously not believing my claim. He inhaled deeply and opened his mouth, presumably to speak, but before anything came out a devilish smile crept across my face. <em>I don’t know if he’s trying to get on my nerves on purpose or not, but two can play at that game,</em> I thought, unluckily for my brother. “You know, dear brother, you sound an awful lot like Francis right now, he said the same things yesterday. Funny, don’t you think?” A low blow—in his eyes—but it was sure to put him off my case, for now at least.</p><p>     Arthur’s green eyes widened immensely in an instant, and his already open mouth dropped about as far as Big Ben was tall. Stuttered letters fell out of his face as he attempted to search for the right words to express the betrayal he felt in this moment. “How could you compare me to him?” he finally said, exasperated, “Isn’t it enough that you’re with that frog, must you rub it in my face every chance you get? I cannot believe you!” And with that, he huffily stormed off into the building.</p><p>     Walking down the halls, I slowly began to notice a slight shift in atmosphere as the other students looked at me as if I were a zoo animal, some even visibly moving from me. Whatever, it would do me no good to place too much thought on it.</p><p>     I reached the classroom, conveniently around the same time as my angered brother. It was apparent that he was making sure I knew he was ignoring me. The both of us walked in, and exchanged pleasantries with our teacher.</p><p>     Professor Hitler was…a strange man, to say the least. Many of us often wonder how it was that he was offered a job here in the first place, and as the Home Economics teacher at that. His teaching style was brutal, and on some occasions, extreme was the only word you could use to describe it.</p><p>     I sat down at a table with another girl I remember hearing was a transfer student. She was thin and had hair that framed her face well. I smiled and waved and she flashed a faint smile in return.</p><p>     Not long into the class, Professor Hitler aggressively grabbed Feliciano and began to berate him, “For the twelfth time this veek, Feliciano, VE ARE NOT MAKING PASTA!!!!!” Everyone looked away, lest they witnessed a live-action homicide.</p><p>     I made eye contact with the new girl and she leaned towards me slightly, “Is the Professor always like this?”</p><p>     “Only half the time,” I said, wincing at a loud noise, followed by a cry from the mess that was happening in the corner, “I’m Elizabeth, by the way, Liza to friends.”</p><p>     She stuck out her hand, confidently, to shake my own, “I’m Joan. Joan of Arc.”</p><p>     We talked about trivial matters until the last topic on the earth I wanted to talk about came up: “I imagine you had to have seen this already, right, Elizabeth?” Joan held up her outdated smartphone to show me the post that I ‘had to have already seen’, and, of course, I had. “Now that you and I have become friends—at least, I hope we have—I think you should know the one who’s behind this account.”</p><p>     My eyes lit up and my posture corrected itself. I shook my head, trying to hide my need to know the perpetrator behind this crime against me, “Yes?”</p><p>     “Do you know a girl named Mona?”</p><p>     Yes, of course I knew who Mona was! Last school year, she tried to do everything in her power to utterly destroy me! All of this because I just so happened to come to Hetalia High. It’s not <em>my</em> fault Francis broke up with her.</p><p>     “I do know her, maybe unfortunately, but I do. I can’t say I’m surprised that she was behind this. How do you know for sure?”</p><p>     “I have my sources,” she winked, teasingly.</p><p>     I sighed but, nevertheless, welcomed the new information.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>     That evening, Francis and I sat in my room studying for an upcoming test that ultimately didn’t mean anything in the grand scheme of things. What does a country need good grades for? With no regard for the well-being of the loose leaf between us, I slammed my hands down over the words—rather aggressively for a delicate flower like myself—and gasped dramatically, “I never told you what I found out today!”</p><p>     He smiled at me, my face now mere inches from his. “What did you find out today, mon amour?”</p><p>     I began to tell my epic tale of discovery, sparing no details of course. I explained that my new friend, Joan of Arc, shared with me the identity of my hate account’s owner. Mona. Naturally. Francis revealed that he actually knew Joan ‘back in his childhood’, as he said, stating that he felt she was always sort of odd, and unsettlingly overconfident.</p><p>     “I suppose it’s possible Mona could be behind it; I wouldn’t find that hard to believe. Don’t you think it’s a bit strange that Joan just so happened to know this?” he questioned. Maybe he was right to be careful, but I wasn’t going to let go of my life preserver in this sea of unknowingness.</p><p>     I narrowed my eyes at him, settling back down into my previous seated position and crossed my arms, “You’re only saying this because of how she was years ago. People change you know. I think we should just be grateful we have any explanation at all.”</p><p>     “Maybe you’re right, beau, but it wouldn’t hurt to be careful, non?”</p><p>     My phone rang, breaking the trance Francis’ blue eyes put me under. I answered begrudgingly.</p><p>     “Is this really important?” I said, noticeably annoyed.</p><p>     “Right, next time I’ll stop looking out for my sister. Dually noted.”</p><p>     At the same time, Francis’s phone went off.</p><p>     “I’m kind of busy right now,” I sound droning off as I was shown, once again, an aggressive post targeted at me! FrancisGirl struck again! I shifted the phone’s receiver away from my mouth, “What?! That one doesn’t even make sense! It’s like Mona wasn’t even trying!”</p><p>     I could hear Arthur asking what was going on as I continued to ignore him, reading and rereading the post, until finally he raised his voice loud enough that I thought I had accidentally switched on speaker mode, “How much longer are you going to keep me waiting? I need to be in the loop too! I must say, this last post has me a bit offended as well.”</p><p>                                                        </p><p>     I groaned and purposefully switched on speakerphone, “Fine, Arthur, but I’m putting you on speaker.”</p><p>     He was silent for a moment. Finally, he said, “Now, why would you need to do-” Naturally, he wasn’t able to finish this sentence.</p><p>     “Bonjour, mon amie. It’s been awhile, hasn’t it.”</p><p>     A long drawn out groan ensued.</p><p>     Thankfully, our conversation wasn’t drowned by arguments. I once again explained to Arthur now about how I uncovered the identity of my hater, this time much quicker, and in much less detail, and also about the discussion Francis and I had just had as well.</p><p>     “You know why she left in the first place, right?” Arthur started, “It’s because you stood up to her, and everyone realized how much of a bully she really was. So, sorry, <em>mon amie,</em> I think it’s absolutely Mona who’s behind this.” Francis shrugged dramatically, making me laugh.</p><p>--------------------------------------------------------</p><p>     It was late by the time we had finished talking and Francis wished me goodnight. I was just about to close my eyes for the night, hoping for sweet dreams, naturally, when a loud BZZT escaped my phone and that ungodly brightness hurt my eyes.</p><p>
  <em>     The owner of the account is not who you think it is.</em>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>     All morning I couldn’t forget about that message. Who was it from? What did it mean? Why?</p><p>     It was during afternoon classes before I finally—mostly—forgot about it. That was, until I walked into Professor Washington’s class and locked eyes with Joan on the other side of the room. I walked quickly past Mariia and Kirsten who were beckoning me to come sit with them in the back; beckoning me so aggressively that anyone who didn’t know them would think it was a summoning ritual my brother would put on in the school’s basement. It wasn’t that I didn’t like them or their company, but right now the only thing I could think was about that damn message! Mariia faked cried and Kirsten huffed a sigh of sorrow.</p><p>     “Joan!” I said as I finally reached the open seat by her, “You will never guess the message I got last night!”</p><p>     Unfortunately, before Joan could guess, Professor Washington began to explain today’s group assignment.</p><p>     Professor Washington was an older man, likely in his late fifties, perhaps early sixties, who taught the only history class at Hetalia High. Being as we are, history class was…a rather difficult subject for the lot of us to sit through, if you can understand why. It took a special sort of character to handle such a topic, but oh what a special sort of character her was indeed.</p><p>     Coincidentally and fortuitously, I was partnered up with Joan. We swiftly completed our work (naturally, of course, I am a genius after all), and it was time to spill the beans to my newest friend. “So, about that message from last night. It told me that ‘the account’s owner is not who I think it is’. Do you think someone is trying to tell me it isn’t Mona? But I thought your source told you it was her, so of course, you must be right,” I was cut off by Joan’s unusually concerned expression, “Are you alright, Joan?”</p><p>     “Yes I’m…fine. I feel sick. Please excuse me.”</p><p>     She hurried out of the class room.</p><p>     The bell rang for class to end and immediately I began searching for Joan, hoping to find out if she was actually alright. <em>BZZT</em>, my phone.</p><p>
  <em>     I would be careful of who you spend your time with, Elizabeth. You never know what monsters lurk behind a pretty face. Trust me, I would know.</em>
</p><p>     “What in the?” I wondered aloud. Despite my confusion by the message, I ended my hunt before it could begin and headed for Antonio’s dorm, where I had planned to meet him and his other pals to hang out.</p><p>--------------------------------------------------------</p><p>     The four of us had been together now for several hours, long enough for the sun to set almost entirely. I’ll never understand how we never run out of things to laugh about. There’s really never a dull moment with those three.</p><p>     At this point, Gilbert was giving us his live performance of a rock-and-roll song he wrote in his ‘free time’ (he often referred to his classes as free time). The rest of us begged him to stop—he was never very good—but it wasn’t until we all got a notification on our phones that he finally stopped.</p><p>     “I bet I know what that is,” I sighed.</p><p>     Apparently, I did not. Nothing could have prepared me for the horror that would befall me in this very moment.</p><p>     I started to get up to go grab my phone across the room, but right before me, I watched as Gilbert’s eyes widened unnaturally wide, Antonio took in a breath through his teeth, and Francis turned off his phone and put his hand of his forehead.</p><p>     I froze, almost not wanting to know what it was that they all had just seen. I inhaled shakily and finally asked, “What? What is it?” None of the boys wanted to confess. At last, it was Gilbert who was brave enough.</p><p>     “Vell, frau, at least everyone vill know you’re hot,” he said, slowly turning the screen to face me.</p><p>     Racy images of myself. One’s that even <em>I</em> hadn’t seen. Likely, because I had never taken them in the first place.</p><p>
  <em>     NO! That’s not possible!</em>
</p><p>     “Dios mío, you sure are a lucky guy, huh?” Antonio nudged Francis as he spoke.</p><p>
  <em>     This can’t be happening! This isn’t real! </em>
</p><p>     Francis slowly turned to face me and my tomato red face, “Oui, I’m sure who ever received this is a very lucky guy, right, mon amour?” His usual mon amour sounded nothing like the one he said this evening. It was obvious he was upset with this development.</p><p>
  <em>     Ugh, my life is over…</em>
</p><p>     Finally, I had become overwhelmed with anger that I stood up on the chair I had been sitting on, ready to prove a point and defend my innocence. Upon closer inspection, especially to me, it was painstakingly obvious that that wasn’t me. Sure, the edit was well put together, and to unsuspecting eyes it would be an easy error, but not to me.</p><p>     “That’s not even me!” I shouted, “Look at this!” I furiously lifted my shirt up, high enough to point out a prominent scar on my stomach. “Look! It’s not possible that that’s me, my scar isn’t even there.” I dropped the fabric from my hands took a step—rather, a stomp—over to Gilbert who was still staring ceaselessly at the photo. I ripped it from his hands and pointed at the area where that (inexplicable scar that Elizabeth just so happens to have to move the plot, don’t question it, it doesn’t matter) dastardly scar should have been. They stared inquisitively at the photo and then back at me.</p><p>     In a different situation it would have been very funny. But not here. Not now. I don’t think there could have been anything in that moment that would have made me laugh.</p><p>     After what felt like an eternity, Francis spoke up, “I believe you. Désolé, I shouldn’t have doubted you.” I flashed him a half smile.</p><p>     Gilbert shook his head hard, “So, it’s fake zen. Someone’s going to pay for zis, ja!”</p><p>     Antonio nodded profusely in agreeance.</p><p>     Now Gilbert was standing up and shouting, mostly nonsense, but in the midst of the nonsense, at some point he said: “No vone does zis to my pal and gets avay vith it!” As he said the word ‘pal’, he grabbed my head between his forearm and his bicep in a chummy manner, although it was a bit too hard. In another situation, I would have hit him and told him off, but right now, the supportive gesture was needed.</p><p>     The trio devised a plan that evening. With it, they would scour every inch of the halls in order to smoke out the rat who did this. The three boys put their hands together as if this were some sporting event, and broke for the evening.</p><p>--------------------------------------------------------</p><p>     Just like every late night, Francis walked me back to my room. The mood was more gloomy than usual, of course, all things considered.</p><p>     “Don’t fret, mon chéri, we’ll make this right.”</p><p>     “I know.”</p><p>     It wasn’t long before reached my door. We said our goodnights, and as he turned to leave, I grasped for his arm so he couldn’t get much farther. He turned to face me again.</p><p>     “Stay with me tonight, yeah?”</p><p>     “Anything for you.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>     The following day, I didn’t even bother going to class. Could you <em>imagine</em> the embarrassment I would succumb to? Not. Happening.</p><p>     I hid in the library. And, yes, I hid there all day.</p><p>     The boys, as they later told me, spent every minute of their day searching and threatening and metaphorically patting down everyone in this whole school. Every. Single. One. I found it hard to believe, given the massive student population, but in these trying times, I <em>chose</em> to believe whatever stories they had spun that day.</p><p>     Francis and Gilbert had both come up empty handed, both apologizing profusely.</p><p>     “I actually tried to do something productive. Gil, on the other hand, chose to mess with Feliciano all day.”</p><p>     Gilbert looked horribly offended, “Zat is so not true, you liar.”</p><p>     Before they could really get at each other, Antonio cut them off, “Hold it you putas. I was able to find something useful.” The four of us gathered around an enclosed envelope, sealed with a violet kiss. He carefully opened the envelope, being sure to be extra slow just to piss off Gil. Inside was a letter written in rather beautiful cursive writing that, naturally, none of us recognized until the author had appeared before us, but we’ll get there. Very simply the letter read: <em>I know everything. Meet me under Washington’s cherry trees at dawn. And don’t be late. Or else. XOXO Gossip Girl. </em></p><p>     We all shared glances at each other, contemplating the validity of this tip.</p><p>     “I’m going,” I firmly stated, walking across the room to look dramatically out the window, “It has to be something, right?”</p><p>--------------------------------------------------------</p><p>     It was now very early in the morning, almost as early in the morning as when I wrote this. The four of us all stood under Professor Washington’s cherry trees, just as the letter instructed. It was almost an entire hour before two figures finally approached us.</p><p>     “Vhat happened to don’t be late, ja?” Gilbert huffed.</p><p>     “Those rules don’t apply to me.”</p><p>     That voice. That voice that <em>none</em> of us could ever forget no matter how badly we wished to.</p><p>     Mona.</p><p>     And was that…Herakles? What in the hell? None of us could believe our eyes at this turn of events.</p><p>     I turned to the rest of my crew and whispered, <em>"Nobody question it.</em>" The others nodded in almost unison. Naturally, Gil ruined it.</p><p>     “As I imagine you can guess now, it was me who was sending you those anonymous messages, Elizabeth.”</p><p>     “That was you? I thought you were the one behind the account!”</p><p>     Mona scoffed. “Look sweetie, I’m not looking to tarnish my name anymore than you already have, but I don’t care about that anymore.” She walked towards me, and I felt my body stiffen as she grew closer. I was ready for anything, “I know you might find this hard to believe, but I’m a changed woman. After I met Herakles, he changed my life for the better.</p><p>     “Look Elizabeth, I know you and I were never on the best terms, but it was just because I was jealous of you. How could a girl not be?” she threw her hands up dramatically, “You have it all. And what did I have but a broken country and a broken spirit to wash it down with. I’ve moved on from all of this petty drama; turned over a new leaf some would say. I didn’t know how else to get to you since I left Hetalia High, and I didn’t know how else to apologize to you other than help you in anyway I could.” Now, Mona took my hands in her own, almost as if she was about to propose to me, although the very thought was hysterical to me, “If you can find it in your heart, Elizabeth, please forgive me for the terrible things I did to you last year. I can understand if you can’t…”</p><p>     “I forgive you, Mona.”</p><p>     “Thank you.”</p><p>     Mona cleared her throat, and began to start again, as if she hadn’t just spoken more words than anyone else had in this entire story, “Now with that out of the way, here’s the truth. HetaliaGram user FrancisGirl, owner of this horrendously tacky account, is none other than-”</p><p>     “Hurry tell us, frau, I can’t vait!”</p><p>     Mona stared at him for several seconds before closing her eyes for an equal amount of time. “Maybe if you wouldn’t interrupt me, I would be able to. Anyways, thank you for that. The owner of this account is none other than-”</p><p>     “You take too long to tell stories, niña. You should really work on that.”</p><p>     “Please stop that. Preferably before I lose my temper. The owner of the account is-”</p><p>     “Any day now, plaire.”</p><p>     She screamed. Mona screamed. It was unlike any scream anyone had ever screamed before, “I hate you all! Every. Single. One. Of. You. <em>Morons!</em> It’s Joan! Joan of Arc! Joan is the one behind the account! If you idiots would have just let me finish, you would have known like, five minutes ago. Instead, each and every one of you chose to interrupt me! Are you happy? Are you happy that you broke me? I’m writing Hetalia High 2 for frick’s sake! I can’t deal with you freaks anymore!”</p><p>     Um…</p><p>     We all looked at Mona as she took a deep breath and counted to ten. Herakles put a hand on her shoulder, hoping to ease her rage. I <em>certainly</em> know the rage that comes along writing a Hetalia fanfic, but I digress.</p><p>     With this damning information, I felt saddened knowing my new ‘friend’ was actually a conniving bitch instead. Ugly whore. “But, why would she do this?”</p><p>     “It pains me to tell you I told you so, but I told you so, mon amour.”</p><p>     “Yeah, yeah, I know.”</p>
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<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
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    <p>     We all devised a truly brilliant plan to capture Joan of Arc. With absolutely no clue what a transfer student who has only known me, presumably, for a few days would want to ruin my life for, we pressed on. Quitters never win, and win we must, and win we shall.</p><p>     The school bell wouldn’t ring for the day to begin for another hour. We staked out a spot nearby Joan’s dorm that would give us a perfect view of the exact moment she walked out the door.</p><p>     Anticipation was eating me away. Waiting. Waiting. Waiting.</p><p>     Finally.</p><p>     There Joan of Arc stood. She glanced around at her surroundings, and then back at her cellular device you could barely call a phone, before taking a step out the door and falling. Right. Into. Our. Trap.</p><p>     With one tug of the rope, Joan was captured in our net. We all ran out, beating sticks ready to beat.</p><p>     Joan cried out, “What is this? What do you all think you are doing? Do you know who I am?”</p><p>     “We do, FrancisGirlWideEyeEmojis. But, do you know who we are? Perhaps you don’t want to know.”</p><p>     “Why are you doing this? You cannot prove a single thing by doing this.” Joan was red in the face, visibly enraged, “Say, self-proclaimed genius, Elizabeth Kirkland, Liza to friends…do you wish to know why I seek to <em>utterly crush</em> you?”</p><p>     I nodded hard.</p><p>     She produced an overly confident laugh, one she was infamous for, and began to explain her petty motives, “It is because someone like <em>YOU</em> are going to <em>corrupt</em> the one thing that I have spent my life trying to protect. Forgive me for not specifying, I know you Englishwomen,” she spat that last word out as if the letters tasted sour in her mouth, “are terribly ignorant. Does a little thing called the <em>Hundred Years War</em> ring a bell? Or were you asleep during that lesson too?”</p><p>     “Joan, that’s utterly asinine! Do you know how long ago that was?”, Francis was beside himself, “Move on, Joan! That’s over! This story doesn’t even make sense anymore!”</p><p>     “NO!!! NEVER!!! IT CANNOT END SO SOON!!!” Joan of Arc exclaimed, “You cannot understand the pride I feel when I look at you. To let such a vile woman anywhere near you would be treason to the very country I have sought to save for so many years. She must pay for her vixen tricks and her wicked spells she so obviously casts upon you.”</p><p>     “I don’t cast spells, that’s my brother you’re thinking of.”</p><p>     “Silence, harlot. I-”</p><p>     Mona coughed, cutting her off. She motioned towards a recording device held firmly in her left hand, “And that’s all the time we have. Thank you for your on-tape confession, Joan of Arc. It was truly a spectacular performance.” All of us began to turn away, excluding Gilbert who had other ideas, but Mona turned around for one final statement: “Oh, and thank you for trying to throw me under the bus. Gil, hit her once for me too.” She finally turned back around. For good this time.</p><p>     We all walked away, just like the Breakfast Club, to go deliver our damning proof to Mr. Brandolf so that Joan of Arc would walk the <em>arc</em> of expulsion. It was truly glorious. Well, all except for Gilbert, of course. He had other plans. He was given a beating stick, and damn it if he wasn’t going to whack her a few good ones, well then, he wouldn’t be German now would he.</p><p>--------------------------------------------------------</p><p>     “Ah, ja, indeed. Zis is very damning evidence,” Mr. Brandolf said as Gilbert finally brought Joan into the principal’s office. Brought her still in the net, of course.</p><p>     “No! You cannot do this to me!”</p><p>     “As my idiot son vould say, ‘Ja, frau ve can.’ Joan of Arc, I hereby declare you…EXPELLED in the highest degree of expulsions. Go now and valk the valk of shame that you so deserve!” he declared firmly.</p><p>     “You cannot be serious!”</p><p>     “Si, serio.” Antonio said. And that was all that needed to be said.</p>
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<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Epilogue</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>     Naturally, it didn’t take long for the school to forget those wicked posts Joan so rudely made about me. Eventually, I was able to roam the halls once more, free of any bad-mannered looks, although I would be lying if I didn’t notice the additional staring eyes of the male population I had to live through now.</p><p>     Well, no matter. I’m just glad this mess is over. I just hope nothing else happens this school year, it’s been too long already—OH MYT GOSH TIS THAT THE 2Ps??????</p><p>     “’Ello Poppet!”</p><p>     “NO, YOU’LL NEVER TAKE ME ALIVE!”</p><p>The end?</p>
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